


Blazing Stars

by Orchisse



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, And porn without plot sometimes, Becoming real people, Cunnilingus, Drug Use, F/M, Food, Friends to Lovers, Mildly Dubious Consent, One sided, Or porn with plot, Partying, Pining issues, Recreational Drug Use, Relationship Study, Relationship adventures, Things are fun and easy when you're rich, Travel, Trying something new..., Unrequited Love, Wrecking wonders of the world as usual accidentally on purpose, burn as slow as fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:31:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orchisse/pseuds/Orchisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reconciliation of where Nathan and Abigail left off before the kidnapping, and the very end of Doomstar Requiem, where they are shown to be passionately kissing in the sunset. It's just...that's a big jump in their relationship trajectory, there. And hero-gratitude can only go so far...<br/>So that's where this comes in, to try to explain what happened. As best we can. With what we know.<br/>Warning: This will soon have lots of graphic things in later chapters and thus the rating will change accordingly.</p><p>EDIT: STILL PLANNING, IT TURNS OUT. I AM VERY SLOW WITH THIS ONE. Do plan to continue, someday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blazing Stars

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. Not much of Nathan/Abigail stuff around the net, so I decided to whip a few little things up myself. Be warned - lots of it is shmoop. Metal-laden fluff ahoy and all that. Drama and humor too, I think. Hopefully stuff that isn’t too out of character, but we will see. 
> 
> We will see. 
> 
> Now, considering that even though Abigail is featured more than the average love interest in Metalocalypse, we STILL do not know much about her. So I may have stretched and hypothesized her a bit; tried to keep her character in line with her obvious interest in music, her talent in working with difficult bands and getting extremely impressive results and thus being an obvious go-getter with a no-nonsense attitude, and THEN tried to connect that with what happened in Doomstar Requiem - which just completely turned everything upside down characterization-wise. The boys went through a musical journey of realization and development - Toki and Abigail were traumatized for months - psychologically messing them up and evidently bringing out a survivalist, maternal side in her; Roy died and Charles quit. 
> 
> Big stuff.
> 
> Oh, and that random, passionate kiss. You know. Just thrown in with the credits. Against the sunset. NBD. So uh…there’s that juicy bit of canon whose story gaps I need to fill...
> 
> I don’t know what I’m doing. Let’s just be clear about that. This is dark fluff and smut, really. With lots of cursing, some growth and relationship issues. And occasionally, maybe some stupid lyrics.
> 
> But for Nathan/Abigail fans, I hope you enjoy until Season 5 comes out and negates everything I put up here. XD But I would be happy to call this AU...BECAUSE THEN WE WOULD HAVE SEASON 5. 
> 
> Anywho. Enjoy. Whatever. 
> 
> ;D

* * *

 

 

It seemed like a dream. So much blood had emptied from her, and what little she had left rushed to her head whilst crucified. Abigail mused that she might have dreamed the entire thing. 

The rescue. 

Dethklok. As heroes. Come to save them. 

No. That would never happen. 

The night was dark and hazy. Full of pain. Heartbeats like a tribal drum in the silent black. 

And then, a relief so massive she would never think herself devoid of hope again. 

A burst of a red, gigantic power that engulfed Dethklok from the sky…it killed the man who tortured them…

All of it might have just been her own imagining…

But it happened so fast and she was so weak and jittery. She found her muscles hardly useful — she kept falling to her knees. 

In the next moment they were running. Hard. 

Long fingers held her up, supporting her as best they could against a lean torso. A strand or two of blonde hair lashed against her face. 

All at once she could not bear it, exhausted beyond measure. She plundered into darkness, feeling Skwisgaar’s grip on her arm, seeing nothing but Nathan’s black mane whipping in front of her as they ran; a twinkling flash of gold in his giant’s palm…

 

* * *

 

Abigail drifted in and out of the light. That blurred limbo between waking and sleep. There was a strange music, mostly of a steady beat — a monotonous beeping, like some demonic broken jungle bird. Deep, agitated growls pierced it here and there, sometimes. They sounded familiar. But she was too excited, yet too drained to place them…

 _Where’s Toki?_ She tried to speak, but it was garbled. 

She could have sworn a jaguar with startling green eyes had answered her, but she couldn’t understand the words in time.

 

* * *

 

After what seemed an eternity amongst abstraction, Abigail sensed the real tingling of consciousness in the corners of her mind. It felt inexplicably and yet markedly different from the confused haze in which she had been stuck for…well…however long it had been. 

When her eyes finally obeyed her will — opened and focused on what appeared to be an ordinary florescent ceiling lamp — it was as heavenly as breathing fresh air.She could see. She was alive. 

Quite without her permission, a strange noise escaped her; something cathartic and joyful. 

 _She wanted to sob and dance and never sleep again_ , it said. 

But she didn’t, of course. 

Abigail sniffed loudly, kept the stinging of her eyes at bay, and tried to sit up. Pain raced through her chest and abdomen, settling in her lower back. She bit her lip hard, drew blood; tried not to groan as she gingerly relaxed back into position. Hospital needles protruded from her right hand, connected to tube lines. An IV solution bag hung above her head like a dirty diaper. 

She felt helpless. Bereft. Alone.

Angry. 

_Where was Toki?_

Her head twisted in an effort to take in more of her surroundings, and she started.

Nathan Explosion sat to her left, in the visitor’s chair, eyes fixed upon his dethphone like some text-obsessed teenager. In between his thighs sat an open bag of Doritos. When she squinted, she could see that his fingertips were slightly orange. 

Abigail would have laughed if it didn’t hurt so much. Instead she cleared her throat. “Nathan?”

His head rose immediately, and pocketed his dethphone. “Abigail. You’re awake.” 

She thought he smiled but he stuffed one last chip in his mouth too quickly for her to be sure; instead she watched him crumple the bag in his enormous hands and get up, lifting the chair and moving it closer to her bedside with a grunt before settling himself again within it. 

“Where’s Toki? Is he all right?” she was almost afraid of the answer. 

Nathan looked almost irritated. “Yeah, he’s fine. He’s uh, he wanted to get some food so he’s not here.”

A sigh escaped her. So Toki _was_ all right. Enough to be sent on food errands again. She felt lighter, somehow. _Toki was all right_. 

But she was here, with wounds serious enough to warrant a lot of bandages, a lot of medication and very little movement. “What happened?” 

Nathan studied her seriously, grumpily, from behind a few stray strands of his long black hair. “You went into some kind of toxic shock or something after, you know, getting….getting stabbed…and everything after that. Toki didn’t for some reason. I don’t know. He just got some bed rest and meds and stuff. But that’s why you’re still here. And why he’s not. You know.”

Abigail closed her eyes firmly, assaulted with images from their containment…

_Toki sobbing into her neck while they both bled pus from their backs, as she sang to him…_

_Being fed maggoty rotten food, vomiting and shitting in puddles after weeks of it…_

_Having been starved and weakened and cut and crucified…_

_They were being prepared to be drained and gutted as final sacrifices just as the rest of Dethklok barged in…_

She breathed in deeply; let it out. “It was the bandages.”

Nathan started, confused. “What?” 

“The bandages. I got some bandages; Toki didn’t. He was sewn up; I wouldn’t let him touch it or let it touch anything. I thought I was all right, but I wasn’t. The bandages were dirty. That’s why I’m here.” She said softly. 

Nathan looked uncomfortable; scratched his neck solemnly, until a bright red patch appeared there. It looked like he was close to drawing blood. “I’m…sorry, Abigail.”

She stared at him curiously, studying him. “Huh. Getting better at apologizing. But what are you sorry for? You saved us. After months and months…I was thinking you all wouldn’t come in time. You _did_. Even when all those agents you sent to find us were killed. You guys came anyway. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

He looked nearly anguished, his fists clenched on his knees. “But there _is_ ,” Nathan seemed seasick, rocking himself slightly, as if he were drunk. “You don’t know! Charles is the one who sent those people to find you. We…we didn’t _want_ to. At first. We tried to forget you guys with partying and fucking around. For…a long time. Before we, uh, had to — wanted to — come and get you back. If we didn’t, our fans were going to go away.”

Abigail studied him silently, attempting to remain objective, to crush the surge of shock — of the strange, instinctive _betrayal_ — she felt. It was difficult. Far too difficult, considering that she and Toki were abused and nearly filled with hopelessness by the end of the affair. Dethklok only came for them because their fans threatened to leave. It was a foul pill to swallow. She felt something dark creep and grow inside her suddenly, and in that moment, she despised Nathan Explosion more than she had despised anyone in her _life_. 

He might have sensed it, for when he braved a glance at her bedridden form, he appeared to be almost fearful. Every one of his muscles tensed, as if he were fighting the urge to bolt like a spooked, dumb animal. “But we _had_ to…we felt _guilty_. And…well…things weren’t the same.” He finished. 

It was unbearably still in the room, while Abigail gathered her whirling thoughts.She suffered for months, physically and mentally. She was allowed no respite — Toki had been tortured, falling apart, not knowing how to cope with his harsh surroundings, or not remembering how to. She had to be strong for him, which meant she herself could reveal little pain. Both to Toki _and_ Magnus, for different reasons. And all the while Toki fled sweetly, mentally away like she had taught him, as she held him carefully against her so he would not sleep on his back in the filth…the rest of Dethklok had been callously idling away. With _pleasure_. 

She wanted to vomit. 

It was too stale in the room. 

“Could you open a window, please?” she asked, an unwanted note of desperation seeping into her voice, her stomach roiling. “ _Now_?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Nathan jumped out of the chair to his feet, and shoved the tiny window open so hard she heard the panes shake. It would have annoyed her had he not looked as harried as she felt. “How’s that?” 

 _The air was cold._ “…Better. Thanks.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

More painful silence. She heard his nails against his arm, scratching again. 

Abigail breathed deeply. It was raining outside; she could hear it. It was soothing. A sigh left her. Nothing about this situation was fair. But life wasn’t fair. It wasn’t ever going to be, unless you worked to make it better with what you had — with what you knew. 

And she knew these things: Magnus was gone. She — and Toki — were alive. were safe, and could heal. Properly. Because of Dethklok. No matter what they were doing before, or how long it took. It was done. 

“You still did,” she found herself saying. “You all found us in the end. Saved us.”

“It was almost too late —”

“But it _wasn’t_.”

“Yeah well, we’re not fucking _heroes_ , Abigail —”

“Please. _That_ much is obvious.” 

“…Well, yeah! Fine! Okay!…But you’re not supposed to _say_ that!” He roared, but then crossed his arms and glared to the side. “Sorry.” He grunted absently to himself and wouldn’t look at her. 

Abigail held her gaze on him until he braved her eyes again, still scowling even more so because of it. A corner of her mouth quirked at his puerile behavior. “You guys were _heroic,_ though. There is a difference. And I’m glad you decided to be. Toki never doubted you, at least outwardly.”

“I guess.” He acquired that strange, guilty look again. “But you did. Right?”

She wriggled her back into the hospital mattress, trying to ease the pressing ache there, but she made it worse instead. “Of course I did. I don’t think I can be blamed for that, considering what you just told me. I’m just glad we didn’t die before —” 

“We were so fucking _stupid_.” Nathan moaned suddenly, covering his face in his hands. His hair fell over his face. She could see his painted fingernails digging into his forehead. A few nails had chips in the polish. For some reason, that gave her comfort.  

“Yeah. You were.” He groaned loudly at that, but Abigail insisted firmly; “Stop that. Listen to me. You got smart about it eventually. You learned. That’s the important thing. And despite everything, I learned, too. I...was wrong about you guys. I never was so happy to be wrong, okay?”

He was silent for a long time, clutching his head in his enormous hands. All she could see was the middle-part of his hair. Then a gigantic, rumbling exhalation of breath came from him, akin to a bear’s. His head rose and his hands fell to his knees. He looked her in the eyes, in the way one would look at a friend who helped them in a time of desperation. “Okay.” 

Abigail nodded, satisfied. “Okay.”

Nathan sniffed, was still for awhile in his chair as he watched her. She didn’t mind it as much as she normally would. 

“Charles left us, you know.” He spoke again. “He said…we’re on our own now.”

She frowned slightly, observed the hulking, nearly middle-aged man in front of her, who sounded like a child abandoned by a parent in a grocery store. “Did he? Why now?” 

“He said…that he couldn’t abide by his contract anymore. He’s involved with the Church of the Black Klok and everything, so…he left.” Nathan explained with some difficulty. “And…Ishnifus died. They killed him.” 

Abigail was silent, listening. That name was unknown to her.

“He died to save us,” Nathan went on, staring at the floor. “He didn’t have to. I saw it happen.” 

“Who was he?” she asked softly. 

“The uh, the High Priest, I think. Of that Church. But he helped give us — me — the confidence to get you guys.” 

“I’m sorry, Nathan.” She said. 

Nathan studied her. “So, uh…I guess the point is…after all this, we’re all going to, you know, try not to be such assholes. Because…it doesn’t help. With everything. It turns out that…not caring, being an asshole…and all that…isn’t…actually metal. It’s just stupid.”

Abigail smiled faintly, feeling oddly proud of him. He had changed — _grown_ — so much. “So what are you going to start with?”

He frowned at her. “What?”

“How are you going to present this new revelation? Any plans?” She pressed gently, smoothing out the blankets on her thighs. 

Nathan grunted in thought and rubbed his palms against his jeans. “Yeah I guess we kind of have to do something about this…huh. I think we should do something for music — for the other musicians trying to make it out there, and everything. That felt good, when we went to get you two. We helped some bands out and stuff.”

“That’s great.” 

“Yeah, I guess it was.” Nathan agreed, a tinge of nostalgia lacing his voice. “It kind of felt like old times — kind of, even if we didn’t really do anything like that back then. I don’t know.”

“A connection, perhaps?” Abigail suggested, drawing the blanket over her chest. “You guys must’ve gotten some help when you first started out; now you’re in that benefactor position. To help other ‘future Dethkloks’ get started, so to speak. Giving back.” 

“…Yeah.” Nathan’s stare grew intense, as if he’d not quite seen her before. “That's...yeah. Exactly.”

She grinned. “That would be a great legacy, you know. Aside from Mordhaus, of course, if you all so chose. It’d be interesting to see if it would ever be converted into a musical college someday; it’s certainly big enough —”

 “HEY!” He roared eagerly, sitting up and pointing at her with a thick finger, “YEAH. That! That is a fucking good idea. A college for musicians somewhere. There’d be teachers and their own studios for practice. Stuff like that. Because garages suck. And parents who don’t give a shit _suck_. This place wouldn’t. It’d be fucking awesome.”

“Sounds it,” she agreed, feeling vaguely better. “I’m sure it would be a perfect place to motivate your successors.” She teased, huffing a pained laugh. However she could not suppress the groan afterwards as the pain refused to dissipate. Whatever the bandages were hiding this time hurt like the blazes. 

Nathan noticed. “What’s wrong? You feeling okay?” 

“I’ve got to stop moving, I think. And I can’t laugh — that was a mistake. Everything hurts now.” 

He frowned deeply, rising out of his chair to peer at her tube-infested arm. “Did they give you morphine? They fucking better have given you morphine.”

“I don’t think so.” 

He growled and clenched his fists. “The shithead doctors. I’ll fucking kill them.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to be an asshole.” She reminded him wryly. 

“Well…yeah, but you’re injured. This time doesn’t count.” He informed her stubbornly, the scowl set in his face. 

She was oddly touched. But everything still did hurt. A lot. “Aspirin wouldn’t go amiss, if you want to do your good deed for the day,” she joked dryly, not really expecting him to get it for her. 

“Hm. Okay. I’ll be right back.” Nathan got up and exited the room, leaving her with her eyebrows raised.

Well. 

Things were…different, that was certain. 

 

* * *

 

Nathan made sure to close the door to Abigail’s room. She probably didn’t want to be disturbed with much. He needed to find her some pills to take the edge off…

He tapped an orderly walking by. “Hey uh, excuse me. I need some aspirin for a lady you have in there,” he pointed towards Abigail’s door. “Since you guys didn’t give her any fucking painkillers, okay? She’s hurting real bad in there.” 

The orderly adjusted his stack of paperwork. “Hmm. Room number 47, Abigail Remeltindrinc, aged twenty-six?”

Nathan nodded, a little surprised. “Yeah.” 

“I see. Well, according to the info I have here, certain medications will interfere with her treatment. I think it’s best that you wait for the primary physician in charge of her case to get the go-ahead. That would be Dr. Hamafalaffle —”

“Yeah, I know okay? I was there when we brought her in, you fucking —” Nathan stopped himself and clenched his fists. _I thought you weren’t going to be an asshole…_ “Okay. All right. Fine. You know what — just get Dr. Hamaflaffle —”

“Hamafalaffle.”

Nathan scowled. “Yeah, fine; him. Whatever. Get him here now. Abigail — she’s finally awake, and stuff hurts her, and that needs to be taken care of. All right??”

The orderly pushed his glasses up with an unsteady hand. “I will see what I can do.” 

The frontman grunted, not knowing what else to say. This guy was lame. What the fuck was the big deal over getting some aspirin? He turned to head back to Abigail’s room, feeling vaguely like a failure, when his dethphone rang. It was Toki. “Hey Toki.”

“Hellos! I gots us the sushies and thems herbals teas fors whens Abigails wakes up!” The kid sounded really excited. It was good that he was feeling that much better already. “Ands I wrotes hers the songs too. I figures out the ends now and ams bringings overs my guitars!”

Maybe he was feeling a little too good. “She’s kind of not feeling well, Toki.”

“Waits, she ams awakes?”

“Yeah. She woke up — like right after you left.”

“Fucks it Nathans! I’s tolds yous to texts mes whens she’s wakes up!” Toki exclaimed angrily through the line. 

Nathan held the dethphone further from his ear. Damn. Toki could be shrill sometimes. “Listen, Toki I forgot, all right? We had a conversation. She’s awake, but she can’t fucking move anywhere and she probably doesn’t want to listen to a song right now okay? What she wants is aspirin because she’s in a lot of pain right now and shit.” 

“Wells fines, I cans gets her somes ons my ways back thens.” Was the wounded answer. “I’ms still goings to sings hers my songs, Nathan. I works really hard on its ands she's my good friends now.”

He groaned loudly. “Fine. Sure.”

“Okays sees you later pal!” 

Nathan hung up with a dissatisfied grunt, scowling. He returned to Abigail’s room, feeling even less useful than before. 

 

* * *

 

The pain was finally receding a little bit, if she didn’t move a muscle. She had to remain perfectly still and relaxed. 

And of course that failed once the door burst open, jolting her. Nathan was back. 

“So I tried to get you some drugs, but I got told off by some lame nurse. Said that it might have some effect on your treatment.” He stated dully, lowering himself into his chair once more.

Abigail nodded, trying to keep still. “It’s fine. It’s better if I don’t move anyway.” 

“So uh…Toki should be back soon. He’s bringing you some tea.” 

“That’s very thoughtful.”

“I mean, yeah he’s bringing it, but you know, it was my idea. To get it. To get you the tea.”

Abigail grinned, amused. “Then thank you, Nathan. I appreciate it.” 

He grunted, but she could see a corner of his mouth turn up. “You’re welcome.” 

They sat in silence again. She could hear the clock ticking on the wall. Once she was well enough she needed to buy a new phone. Her belongings were most likely lost from the mess the Revengencers made at Cornickelson’s funeral. In fact, there were a lot of things she had to take care of once she was released; she needed to find out what had happened to her apartment, her contract with Deathtacy…her _cat._ Oh god, her _cat_ …and how long had it been??

“So uh, are we ever going to talk about…you know?” Nathan’s growl pierced her thoughts, jolting her back to the present. 

“About what?” she replied, nonplussed. 

“About…what happened that time...down in the sub.” 

She underestimated his ability to shock her. Good—fucking—god. And now the pain was back in her diaphragm. “Nathan…”

“Listen, Abigail…I know it was awhile ago now, I know that, but I still can’t stop thinking about it —”

“Nathan, it was — I don’t even know what it was, all right? It was a…moment. Luck and circumstances combined.” She gritted out, fisting the blankets. “It’s been, what? Half a _year_ …?”

“I _know_ , but —”

“It was a mistake!” She burst out. “I broke my most sacred rule — not to sleep with anyone I work with! It was unprofessional, something I promised myself I would _never_ be. I was weak, for the first time in a long time. I just — never before was that a problem. Never. Even if I _was_ tempted, it wasn’t to the point that —” Abigail cut herself off, shaking her head, not wanting to remember how good it had felt. How intoxicating it was; that it had taken her no time at all to release on his tongue, the godly music and heat and sultry red light encompassing them… “I just wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened.” 

“Oh.” 

“And then you kept calling and sending me things,” she went on, the many awkward voicemails and lavish presents she had received flashing through her mind. “And then there was that excruciating dinner in Zimbabwe… _God_ , Nathan!” One of her hands clapped over her face, remembering the shock and embarrassment.  

A pregnant pause infiltrated the room. 

“So…we were never…an item.” 

Abigail opened her eyes, incredulous, but then she saw his face: it was a mirror of hers — mortified and frustrated. Possibly even disappointed. She didn’t even know Nathan Explosion could convey such a complexity of facial expression, outside of Cornickelson’s funeral. 

“No,” she said quietly. “We never were. It was a moment. An intense moment, but that’s it.” 

Nathan still seemed agitated and those green eyes of his sought hers relentlessly. “So, uh…you won’t ever want to date me, right? Is that what you mean? That it’s never going to happen?” 

Abigail narrowed her eyes. God, the questions he asked. It was true she once laughed at the idea; was repelled by it just as much as she was helpless under his mouth. Even now, what with everything that had happened, she still wasn’t sure she wished to commit to…well, anything with him. 

But he had grown so much. 

And damn it, that lick of pride she felt for him betrayed her. She thought carefully; considered him. He had come to visit her here in the hospital — had tried to make her comfortable, had told her the truth of the past months even when it was ugly. 

Had saved her. 

Abigail took a deep breath, ignoring the sting in her chest. “…I’m not sure.” Upon seeing his immediate disappointment, she added, “but what I would say is that this,” she gestured to their general surroundings, “is, frankly, a much better start. For anything.” Abigail made an effort to smile at him. 

After a long moment of solemnly staring at her, Nathan seemed to brighten in response. He looked…content. Relaxed. And then in all seriousness, he opened his mouth: “My name’s not ‘Frankly,’ Abigail.” 

Her eyes had never performed a more impressive roll in all of the years she had been alive. That was just… _so bad_. Yet somehow she could not stop grinning. “Don’t you dare make me laugh, Nathan Explosion.”  

He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, showing off his muscular arms. Smug ass. “Yeah? Or what?” 

“Or I’m going to get you back, that’s what.” She replied as threateningly as she could, bound to her bed as it was. 

He grinned and leaned forward on his knees, his angled eyebrows raising suggestively. “That’s doable. I mean, really. For real.”

“God, Nathan.” She groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes, trying to quell the tickling spasms in her diaphragm. “You are not helping my recovery.” 

Raspy, bearish laughter bubbled out from him in response. “Okay okay okay. I won’t do any more.”

"Hmm,” was her only response, yet that traitorous corner of her mouth wormed up. Clearing her throat, she decided to switch topics to something much safer. “What are you guys going to eat?” 

“Huh?”

“Toki’s getting food, right? What’s he bringing?” 

“Oh. Sushi. I think.” He growled thoughtfully. “Don’t know why it’s taking so long. Usually this stuff takes like ten minutes.”

“He’s fetching my tea, Nathan.” Abigail inserted dryly, inspecting her nails. They really were in bad shape; she’d have to get them done sometime. “You can’t rush that.”

That low, thick laughter came from him again. And he was actually smiling at her. Like a big goof. 

Before she knew what she was doing, Abigail stuck a hand over the bedrail at him, her palm flexing; beckoning. Nathan looked at it for a few seconds before awkwardly placing his huge, meaty palm over hers. 

She gave it a squeeze, closing her eyes to take a catnap. “Thanks for coming to see me, by the way.”

He grunted in response — something that sounded like “Sure,” and didn’t let go of her hand. 

 

 


End file.
